


Brotherhood

by mmtittle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autistic Oliver Wood, Character Study, Gen, Harry Potter Fanfiction Club Server's Winter Challenge II, One Shot, quidditch is his special interest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29723889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmtittle/pseuds/mmtittle
Summary: A quick one shot about Oliver Wood, unabashedly written just for house points. Written as a novice submission for the Harry Potter Fanfiction Server's Winter II Writing Challenge.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Brotherhood

**Author's Note:**

> oliver wood is autistic because i said so and i'm always right. enjoy the fic!

The first time Oliver rode a broomstick, he felt unstoppable. He was only two years old and the toy broomstick would only fly a few feet above the ground. But he would never forget that feeling and that moment. He knew then and there that nothing else would ever compare to that feeling. It was a feeling he would chase for the rest of his life. 

On his fourth birthday, the Wood family got Oliver his first real broom. It was what he had been asking for for over a year. And it was just in time; his toy broom was on its last legs from being used so often. He was elated and Mr. and Mrs. Wood would have to spend every evening after sunset trying to convince their son to come inside. It usually took his mom counting to ten before Oliver would dismount and come inside. Of course, there was one more thing Oliver had wanted for his birthday that his parents couldn’t provide for him. He wanted a little brother or sister. Somebody to play with, somebody to practice with, somebody to be close to. But as much as Oliver begged his parents, there was still no baby sibling. When he was six, he finally learned to stop asking, once he noticed the tears in his mother’s eyes one day when he pestered her about when she would finally have a baby in her tummy. Oliver resigned to being an only child, to playing by himself. 

Flying was Oliver’s favorite thing to do. But flying by himself got pretty boring. What he wanted to do more than anything else was play Quidditch. A real game too, not just trying to score on his dad playing keeper. Oliver studied the game relentlessly, tracking every team and their players and stats. He was a Quidditch expert. But he wanted to be a player too. So, when he was seven, Oliver finally convinced his parents to sign him up for a weekly kids’ Quidditch club. His parents warmed up to the idea after seeing just how isolated Oliver was. If this would help him make friends with kids his age, it could only be a good thing. It was a good thing although if Mr. and Mrs. Wood thought their son talked their ears off about Quidditch before, it was nothing compared to once he’d actually begin playing. Oliver would tell his parents all about their practices and each kid and their strengths and weaknesses on the pitch. Which position they were best at and how he would help them if he was in charge. Mr. and Mrs. Wood would exchange glances, glad their son was enjoying himself but just wishing he would care more about the other kids than how many goals they could score. To Oliver, those two things went together. There was no better way to appreciate his newfound friends than complimenting them on how they played. No better way to show affection than a pat on the back after they scored despite his best attempts to save the goal. Unfortunately, most of the other kids didn’t exactly share the sentiment. They enjoyed the game as well but not with the intensity or fierceness Oliver did. They would come off the pitch and into the locker room and Oliver would excitedly discuss the game or practice. He would recap his favorite moments and the other kids discussed them with it. But then they would change the topic and try to discuss something else. Only Oliver didn’t want to talk about the comics they were reading and continued to go on about how they needed to catch the snitch earlier next time. He didn’t understand why the other boys would go uncharacteristically quiet at this or why they looked at him weird and whispered to one another.

His first year at Hogwarts, Oliver would show up at every Gryffindor practice to watch. It didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t on the team yet or that it was cold in the stands or that practice was happening early in the morning. Oliver wanted to make sure he knew everything possible about the team. He was determined to play for them next year and he needed every possible advantage to make it on the team. He was a good player, he knew this, but it would take more than that to get on the team. It would take luck and hard work and perseverance. And Wood was willing to give all of that and more. 

At thirteen, Oliver managed a big feat. Their team was playing against Ravenclaw and an hour in, Gryffindor’s redheaded seeker caught the snitch. That wasn’t the remarkable part, that was par for the course. But Oliver Wood had not let in a single goal for the entire game. As soon as he dismounted his broom, six people wrapped him in a group hug and congratulated him on a game well played. He beamed with pride and… something else. This was a feeling it took a while to name. It was the same feeling he got when his mom would sing him to sleep or when his dad complimented his moves on the pitch. It wasn’t just the usual feeling of camaraderie. It was the feeling of family. He finally understood the feeling of brotherhood and sisterhood he had longed for all those years. 

Oliver spent August 1991 glued to the window, watching for owls. When the owl he was waiting for finally showed up, he ripped open the envelope so fast that he accidentally tore the letter inside. Fortunately, he knew what it said because along with the letter, a red badge with a C on it fell to the floor. He had done it. Now, rather than annoying and overbearing, Oliver could be seen as determined and in charge. Not only did he have his family with the Gryffindor Quidditch team but now he could lead them. Hopefully to victory. 

Years passed and Oliver had a new team now. A new family. Sure, he wasn’t the captain anymore. Hell, he wasn’t even the permanent keeper. But Puddlemere United was good to him and he got along well there. This didn’t mean that his Gryffindor family meant any less to him, of course. He tried to stay in touch, as much as possible. With the war, it was difficult though. Every Quidditch team in the UK had stopped playing for the season as many players lost family members or went into hiding. Oliver was left feeling lost and alone, missing both the game and the sense of belonging it gave him. Perhaps that’s why he went back to Hogwarts to fight. His family was in danger and as captain, he could never live with himself if he didn’t fight alongside them. Oliver knew the risk. Hell, he knew he could very well die on the battlefield. But it was worth it. It was for his brothers and sisters.

**Author's Note:**

> let's go, puffs! please leave a comment and let me know what you thought! thanks for reading! i'm anderperries on tumblr if you ever want to get in touch! lots of love!  
> stay safe,  
> molly


End file.
